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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26574043">read between the lines (ON HOLD)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToastyBagel/pseuds/ToastyBagel'>ToastyBagel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>standalone fnaf fics [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Five Nights at Freddy's</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse Elements, Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon Divergent, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I May Add More Tags As I Go, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Podcast, ask me if u want to know the ones i left out, i was going to add more but, i was going to have smut but instead i made it, immense angst, implied abusive relationship, its kinda sad i’m srry, phone guy is named scott, podcast au, purple guy is named vincent, theyre rlly spoilery so, this is all of the tags im putting here, vincent and william afton are different people</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:20:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,376</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26574043</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToastyBagel/pseuds/ToastyBagel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike had the perfect life. There was no question about that. Scott almost envied him, but didn’t want to be seen like that. No one’s life was flawless, right?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Phone Guy/Purple Guy (Five Nights at Freddy's)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>standalone fnaf fics [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1770139</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. an unexpected encounter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hey!! so this is an au i started forEVER ago where scott runs a podcast and i’m finally continuing it and i hope y’all like it as much as i do aight let’s get to the story</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I guess it’s already been an hour. Well, I hope I was able to answer all of your questions and give some good advice. Times have been rough, but Wednesday’s episode should be a lot better. See you then.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Scott stopped the recording, switching off the microphone and pulling the earbuds out of his ears.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hesitated before uploading the recording. It definitely wasn’t his best, nor was it his worst, but it didn’t seem to have the charm that his earlier podcasts had.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’d lost his romance.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The whole series was about relationship advice. Listeners would send in questions and he would answer them. It was as simple as that. Occasionally, he would ramble into the microphone about his own relationships. Specifically, </span>
  <em>
    <span>plural </span>
  </em>
  <span>relationships. He pretended they were all the same person though.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After all, who would trust marriage advice from a guy who couldn’t even get a second date?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Romance was dead. At least, that’s what Scott believed. From his experience, one night stands were the norm and all that mattered was sex. All that </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanted was sex. It was exhausting, not to mention demeaning. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The only dignity he had left was behind that microphone, where he was living a lie. He didn’t have a loving husband. He didn’t have a two-story house with a picket fence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had a studio apartment and a cat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Watching the green bar on the laptop screen slowly fill, Scott sighed, leaning back into the sofa and closing his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was kind of funny, actually. His listeners thought </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span> needed help. Maybe they should be the ones giving him advice… </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, his phone began to ring, startling him awake. Reaching over the microphone, he plucked the phone off of the table it was sitting on. Blinking a few times, he finally realized who was calling and pressed the green button.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Mike, what’s up?” His voice still sounded extremely tired, as it did while he was recording. He sounded tired the whole week prior.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I know you’ve been cutting back on hours, but- I don’t know how to say this- boss wants you to come in today.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m scheduled tomorrow. Why today?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“New kid, or something like that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I still work at the library, too. I can’t possibly make both shifts today.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry, Scott. If you come in about an hour and work until five, you’ll still have plenty of time before your other job. You do start at eight tonight, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus, you sound tired. Did you sleep last night?” Mike mentioned as Scott glanced at the clock across the room. It was eight in the morning already, and he only recorded the podcast so early because he couldn’t sleep in the first place.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I slept,” he lied, leaning back into the sofa once again. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be there.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mike was one of his best friends. Ever since they met in high school, they’ve always trusted each other, never really knowing why they were so close in the first place. Maybe opposites truly do attract. After all, Mike was an athlete and Scott was in journalism. They probably wouldn’t have even met if Scott hadn’t dated Mike’s female best friend for half of senior year.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now, Mike was married; not only married, but expecting a child. Where had the times gone...</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Work at Freddy’s that day was hell. Really, every day was awful, but this day was probably the worst. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The kid he was training was not only suspiciously quiet, but looked like he was covered in the most hideous orange spray tan imaginable. Whatever this kid’s backstory was, it had to be interesting.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Other than the orange kid being a pain in the ass for seven hours straight, the day was pretty uneventful. As Scott was about to leave, though, Mike approached him one last time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, is everything alright? You’ve just seemed...off...today,” Mike said softly, as if to not let the two other people who were there hear. Mike rarely spoke softly, so when he did, he really cared about what he was saying.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mike, I’m fine. It was just difficult to get to sleep last night, that’s all. It’s been a long day, too…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve just been more jumpy than usual. I don’t know, I just don’t remember you ever being startled this easily before. You can tell me what’s going on. I want to help you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mike had no idea. With the perfect wife, the perfect home, and the perfect group of friends- except Scott, of course- Mike had the perfect life. There was no question about that. Scott almost envied him, but didn’t want to be seen like that. No one’s life was flawless, right?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They stared into each other’s eyes for a few seconds until the threat of tears caused Scott to turn away, gently pushing the glass door open.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s nothing wrong. I’m just tired. I’ll see you tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“See you tomorrow…” Mike tried to get to him many, many times, always getting the same vague response with a promise to talk about it later. They never did talk about it later though, as Scott would, coldly as always, pretend they never brought anything up in the first place.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At least the library wouldn’t be as busy. It was a cool night in August, usually not when the public library was bustling with people late at night. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Scott parked at the front of the nearly empty parking lot, taking a few seconds to think before going in. He had worn the same turtleneck sweater underneath both his Freddy’s uniform and his library uniform, which hid a pretty bad cut that had lingered on his neck for days. It wasn’t terribly gruesome, he just didn’t want anyone asking about it, especially Mike.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lightly touching the cut through the woven fabric, it stung. It didn’t physically hurt- no, the pain was all emotional- but that didn’t make it any less real. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So, yes, if anyone touched or spoke to Scott unprompted, he would, understandably, be startled. His shoulders and neck, too, had basically become off-limits.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No wonder Mike was worried. Scott would be, too, if he hadn’t already been living with this for what felt like a lifetime.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He turned off the car, stepping into the humid air. It was all so peaceful, he wished he could stand outside like this forever, but he had to make a living somehow.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Right on time, he stepped behind the library desk just as the lady with the shift before him was leaving.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>God, the library was boring at night, especially when you couldn’t move from the checkout desk because someone could wander in any second. The books in the sorting bin weren’t all that exciting, either. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Animal Farm</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Great Gatsby</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and various other books he hadn’t touched since high school lay in the bin, ready for the next kid who forgot their summer reading.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well? Are you going to scan these books or not?” asked an obnoxious, british voice in front of the counter. Scott quickly turned around, resisting the urge to cower at the man’s sharp tone and cold glare.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh- uhh- sorry, I’ll-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, you’d better,” the man spat, looking off to the side as Scott scanned the books and the card, handing them back to the man.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now slightly less afraid, Scott realized that this man was not only much taller than him but also dyed his hair the tackiest shade of purple Scott had ever seen. Silver eyes reflecting the fluorescent lighting of the building, the man looked back at Scott before picking up the books and wandering toward the giant, stone doors.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Have a nice night,” Scott called after him, portraying no energy in his voice whatsoever.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The man abruptly stopped, turning and taking a few steps toward Scott, who gripped the edge of the desk like his life depended on it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Could you- could you say that again?” the man asked in slight disbelief. Confused, Scott just decided to do what he was asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Have a nice night?” It may have come out as a question, but it still caused the other man’s eyes to light up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“By any chance, do you have a podcast about relationship advice? You just sound familiar to me…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Not sure what to do, Scott nodded hesitantly, still gripping the checkout desk out of sheer anxiety. He had no idea what this guy’s intentions were, nor did he want to know.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You really are him! You will not believe how much your advice helped me with my last girlfriend. Sure, she broke up with me recently, but I really think I’ve gotten a lot better at this whole ‘relationship’ thing. Whoever your significant other is, they must be lucky to have you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All Scott could do in reply was laugh nervously with a sheepish smile, internally praying for this guy to leave soon.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I was actually wondering if you could give me any advice on rebounding after a bad breakup. You know, since finding someone new isn’t the easiest thing in the world.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I-” Scott didn’t know how to reply. He didn’t want to make a promise he couldn’t keep by saying that he would answer it in the next episode, but he also didn’t want to take questions in person. In addition, he couldn’t rebound for shit, he just knew how to talk to people on tinder. “You should wait for someone new to come to you. If they’re worth your time, they’ll stay…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Woah, where did that sappy, poetic drabble come from?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow, you really are a visionary. You’re making a second season, right? I can’t wait to hear what you cover next-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually, I’m thinking about stopping after next week,” Scott added, mentally beating himself up for even mentioning that he wanted to quit the show.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What? Why?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s just stressful.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But you’re helping so many people…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t enjoy it as much as I used to.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Scott was </span>
  <em>
    <span>going to</span>
  </em>
  <span> quit the podcast and fall off of the face of the internet in peace, just like everyone else. Now, he had a fanboy on his hands who knew where he worked and was determined to convince him to continue the show.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Try something new! Maybe a new segment or something,” the man persisted, his elbows propped up on the desk. Scott sighed, staring into the lively eyes of a man who just didn’t seem to understand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, kid, don’t follow my advice, okay? Just forget about it. It doesn’t work for everyone.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you saying? You’re up there with your other half living some flawless life while the rest of us are beneath you?” The man scowled, slightly turning away. “I thought you were different.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Scott felt like his heart had just been torn in half. He just killed this poor dude’s dreams, and for what, to fall into internet obscurity for the rest of his days?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait-” Scott suddenly called out as the man turned around one last time. “I’m not actually in a relationship. At least, not right now. I live in a studio apartment, giving advice to all of those couples in the cute neighborhoods who could easily solve conflicts on their own. I started the series because I felt lost in my own love life and thought that solving other people’s problems would solve my own. That’s not how it works, though, and I haven’t loved anyone since then. I- I don’t know why I just told you that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look,” the man sighed as they both looked away from each other. “You may be a fake, but you give seriously good advice. It’s about time you follow it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Scott was silent, staring blankly into the computer monitor beside him while pondering the man’s words. He didn’t know what to say, if anything at all. He thought he was following his own advice. He thought he just wasn’t meant to be in a stable relationship. Apparently, though, this random dude with purple hair could see right through him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” the man said, reacting to Scott’s silence. “Here.” He tore off part of his receipt, scrawling a number on it with the pen chained to the desk. “I’m Vincent. Give me a call sometime if you want.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh-” Scott snapped back to the desk, hesitantly taking the piece of paper with Vincent’s phone number on it. “I’ll call you later, then…” Scott nervously tapped his nails against the desk, watching Vincent turn toward the exit, slightly snickering to himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“See ya, cutie,” Vincent said, disappearing behind the doors. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Scott hated being called cute, but with this guy, it was bearable. It was almost endearing, in a way, instead of condescending. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now, Scott was not, at all, attracted to Vincent. After all, he wore way too much purple, he needed a haircut, and he looked like he could throw Scott to the moon with those biceps. The way he talked, though, was strangely calming. His pale, silver eyes were unforgettable. His smile- or rather, smirk- was a pristine shade of white.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Vincent was almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>attractive. After all, why would someone like Vincent ever flirt with someone like Scott unless he specifically wanted something out of it? He may have sounded genuine in conversation, but there could have easily been something between the lines.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Staring into the empty library, Scott couldn’t figure out whatever he thought Vincent was trying to hide. He must have zoned out for about two hours before coming to his senses.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Vincent was an enigma. Nothing more, nothing less. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*********************</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, lovely. I guess I didn’t expect you to call so soon,” Vincent answered shortly after Scott had dialed his number.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Scott froze behind the phone, not knowing what to think. He had put it on speaker just to stop his hands from shaking. Now, he stared into a glowing screen with the word “Vincent” near the top.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey. I just had some free time and decided now is as good of a time as ever, so…” God, Scott was awkward. Usually, he had a script or notes to read off of to keep himself from rambling and stammering through meaningless, essay-length digressions.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m flattered you want to talk to me, but you are aware it’s four in the morning, right?” Vincent asked, showing slight concern in the last few words.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Scott turned to the clock on the other side of the living room. Sure enough, it was four in the morning and he hadn’t slept all night. He had only called Vincent in the first place because Mike didn’t pick up the phone. Other than that, well, he simply couldn’t stop thinking about what Vincent had told him the previous night.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Scott? Are you still there?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah- yeah I’m still here… Did I tell you my name?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, but it was on your name tag.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Even with the name tag, remembering a name that clearly after no introduction was a major red flag.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh- Okay, I guess,” Scott mumbled. He considered hanging up right then and there, but couldn’t bring himself to leave Vincent like that. After all, he seemed like he meant well.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, everyone’s a bit freaked out at first. Personally, I’m just good with names.” Vincent paused. After Scott didn’t reply, he continued. “Since it’s so early, would you like to get some breakfast in about an hour?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well- I- uhh-” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If you don’t want to, that’s fine, I was just hoping we could talk some more.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh- no- sure, I’d love to,” Scott agreed, not quite knowing why. He never ate breakfast. Then again, he had only recently been up this early in the morning, so breakfast was always completely out of the question.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So, an hour later, he set off for the café they had chosen to meet at. They both knew they chose it because it was right next to the library, but still pretended it was a coincidence just for the fun of it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” Vincent began after they greeted one another. “Are you always an early bird? You posted yesterday’s episode pretty early, too, so I was just wondering.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Scott replied, staring into his cup of coffee. “It’s just been recently. I don’t know why.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you sleep during the day, then, or…?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Okay, now Vincent was </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>prying into Scott’s personal life.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sometimes. It depends on my other job.” Scott didn’t realize what he started by mentioning that.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re working two jobs </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>running a podcast?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What can I say? I have a cat to feed,” Scott muttered tiredly, briefly smiling up at Vincent before he saw a flash of concern in Vincent’s pale eyes. “It’s fine, really…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you juggle all of that every day. You’re a madman.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, what do you do for a living?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m a bartender just down the road from here. That’s why I usually only go to the library at night. Other than that, I’ve taken up gambling.” Vincent smirked, crossing his arms atop the table.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Isn’t that illegal?” Scott glanced across the mostly empty dining area, hoping no one could hear. Luckily, the only two people who were there had airpods in their ears.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It is, but there are always loopholes. Tell me, Scott, what do you do for fun?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I-” Scott struggled to think up a hobby, a hidden talent, </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> to avoid the fact that he didn’t really do anything interesting besides work, social media, and speed-dating. “I run the podcast.” He smiled nervously at Vincent, who appeared to be in disbelief.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not all, lovely. I can tell.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What- what do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your eyes tell a completely different story, sweetheart, and that’s the one I want to hear.” Vincent smirked softly, continuing to gaze across the table at a shocked and embarrassed Scott, who gripped his coffee cup while looking down at the table.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Really, I- I don’t do anything interesting,” Scott managed to stammer out. “I don’t have time for anything besides work.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You said you had a cat, right?” Vincent asked. Scott nodded in reply. “Well, what kind of cat is it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s- Well, I’m not sure, since she was a stray. She’s completely black with different colored eyes and I’ve had her for about a year now. She’s pretty clingy and isn’t really good with new people, so I like to stay home with her when I can.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“See?” Vincent smiled, resting his arm on the table, his fingers brushing against Scott’s. “You’ve got passion in there somewhere, you just need to find it. I know there’s a part of you that still loves making the podcast.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess I don’t entirely </span>
  <em>
    <span>dislike </span>
  </em>
  <span>it…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You just need some inspiration.” Vincent downed the rest of his coffee, throwing the empty cup perfectly into the trash can across the room. “The next evening you’re free, why don’t you stop by the bar I work at? You can meet some good people and I may just get you a drink on the house.” Vincent smirked, standing up and turning to walk to the door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay- Okay, I’ll see you there tomorrow night, but I don’t think anything will change.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’d be surprised, my dear Scotty. Ordinary lives are extinct. You’ve got to accept change if you want to keep going.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With that, Vincent was gone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Not even a goodbye; not anything except an overly-poetic piece of advice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Scott decided to take the advice.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. contrition</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>TW: physical and emotional abuse, blood</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>chapter 2! yay!<br/>so this ones a little short bc i wanted to save all the fun stuff for next chapter</p><p>also in case u haven’t been following my twitter (which you should btw, it’s @ToastyBagel_) i’m updating on mondays now instead of sundays so that’s why i’m posting this on a monday!</p><p>ily all and i hope u like this chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Vincent was, understandably, star struck. He had met one of his favorite influencers, after all. Knowing that Scott had probably collapsed on the couch for a nap the second he got home from the café, though…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Most of the magic was definitely gone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When you find out that someone you had looked up to for nearly a year isn’t who you thought they were, it can be devastating.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Although he was disappointed- although he felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>betrayed</span>
  </em>
  <span>- something inside of him couldn’t let Scott go on like this. In any similar situation, he would have just gone on with his life, completely ignoring whoever was troubled. He wouldn’t have even picked up the phone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vincent felt an overwhelming need to give advice- to stick by Scott although he resisted- and to give him experience to speak about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The loss of wonder had given way for adoration.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure if it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but it was surely something similar. It was a need to know that Scott was loved, to make sure of it in whatever way he could.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And, well, their night at the bar could be a good chance to fulfill that need.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To say that the bar Vincent worked at was dreary would be an understatement. To an unsuspecting tourist or young adult, it would appear to be a quirky little establishment where romance would be made because anyone who chose to step into the building with no more than ten seats and vines stretching across the brick walls surely deserved a happy ending.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As expected, the place was filled with hopeless romantics and Vincent happened to be one of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott wouldn’t fall in love with any customers, but he would learn some good lessons to poorly explain to his fans later on. Who was Vincent to deny Scott a chance to get back on his feet regardless of what he took from the experience?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Throwing his body against the back door of the building, Vincent stumbled into the bar. He scoffed, shoving the thin wooden door back into place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damn thing...always sticks,” he mumbled to himself, throwing a beer-stained white apron over his head and tying it behind his waist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Vince?” A tired, bored-looking lady with an apron much more worn than Vincent’s approached him, sighing in relief when she confirmed that it was, in fact, Vincent who had come in through the back of the building. “Thank god, it’s you. I’m going home. You’re in charge, okay? I don’t think anyone else is coming in to help.” She swiftly untied her apron, tossing it onto a nail in the wall, which strained the wood as it hung from the piece of metal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not like we get many people, anyway,” Vincent added.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” She replied, “things’ll turn around for us once fall starts to roll in. That’s how it is ‘round here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… What time should I close?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If the usuals aren’t gone by two, you can kick ‘em out. If there’s anyone new, I’d say they can stay until three. Y’know, don’t wanna drive away new customers.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To add to the unfortunateness of it all, Vincent worked long hours without a break. That is, unless business was exceptionally slow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hoped there would at least be someone- </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span>- for Scott to talk to the next night when he had agreed to be there. If there wasn’t, though, they could always just get to know each other better. Vincent could close the bar early and they could go on a nice walk downtown. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On second thought, maybe he secretly prayed the bar would be empty, barren and silent to the point where neither of them could stand to stay in there for another second. They would leave, speeding past the neon lights of the city and into the quiet outskirts of town where Vincent’s apartment resided. As if Scott would ever agree to that, of course.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, Vincent could dream, couldn’t he?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For now, that’s all he could do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*************</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just don’t know, okay? Look, I have to go. Maybe- Maybe we should spend some time apart…” Scott’s hands shook as he frantically glanced at the clock on the wall beside himself and someone he could never escape.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You should just quit that damned pizzeria. You don’t even like working there. I could easily find you another job.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I really don’t mind the pizzeria. Besides, I don’t really think I can get anything better without a college degree. You don’t need to do anything for me,” Scott replied softly, smiling nervously as he took a step toward the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’re always either at work or asleep. It’s like I can never have you alone anymore. Like, where the hell were you this morning? You left me on read- like you always do- then got here late after I already asked-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was downtown, okay?” Scott blurted out, tears pricking at the edges of his eyes. “I was just getting coffee with a friend. My car wouldn’t start, so I had to walk… I’m so sorry… I meant to reply, I just-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know what? I think I’m done hearing you apologize. We’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>done</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Done</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Like- Like for good? For- Forever?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, for good. I don’t think we’re right for each other- and would you stop crying about it? We both know you never liked me from the beginning. And to think I once pitied you…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve always loved you. Please, don’t do this. I’ll do anything you want-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span>-” A hand roughly gripped Scott’s shoulder, pinning him to a nearby wall. “-have done nothing but lie to me for six months now.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott could do nothing but shut his eyes as the hand on his shoulder tightened around the bruised skin and a searing pain coursed through the side of his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay- Okay, I’ll go!” As Scott was released, he brought his hand to his cheek, reflexively pulling it away when his cheek began throbbing with pain again. A drop of blood rolled down his finger. Glancing toward the hand that struck him, he noticed a silver ring that had been stained red from many different occasions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, go see that guy you had coffee with this morning. Get back downtown where you belong, slut. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>come back here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah- Alright…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott took a single step toward the door before looking back. Then, he took another. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, he was in the main hallway of the apartment complex, the blood on his hand smeared from grasping the door handle as quickly as he could.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shouldn’t be sad; not here and certainly not now since this isn’t the first time something like this has happened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sure, he had kept the relationship together through a few white lies. He hated every minute of it, making whatever sacrifices he had to because he knew that he didn’t have many chances left to form a lasting relationship.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even if it’s unbearable, at least it’s tangible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course, Vincent would probably be able to set him up with someone nice at the bar… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though, it had been proven that </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t really Scott’s type.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he pushed open the door to the apartment complex, stepping into the cracked pavement, his phone began to ring.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Scott, where the hell are you? We’ve had to put an entire birthday party on hold because there’s no one to watch the kids!” Mike, obviously frustrated, continued to mutter into the phone as to not let anyone else hear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I- I’m so sorry, I just got caught up… I’ll be there as soon as I can. I don’t know how long it’ll take, though, since I’m walking-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>walking</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Shit- Alright, where are you? I’ll pick you up.” From the muffled background noise, Scott could tell that Mike was already walking toward his car.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhh- it’s- well, you know where I live? It’s that same street, you just drive away from the square and after about three miles there’s an apartment building. I’m outside right now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m getting in the car. Stay safe, don’t do anything stupid, I’ve told you all of this before.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank yo-” Before Scott could finish, Mike had already hung up the phone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you so much</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Although they were friends, Mike never knew what happened outside of work and social gatherings. All he knew was one specifically bad ex who joined Scott at no more than two small parties before leaving without a word. He didn’t even tell Scott before leaving, ending that relationship on the spot. That was also the end of bringing new people into their small friend group.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All Mike had left to do was speculate, and when he had grown tired of that, he opted to just stay out of it. By that time, he had a fiancé and wedding plans to worry about. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>going </span>
  </em>
  <span>to see if he could have Scott meet his cousin, Vincent, at the bachelor party, but Vincent didn’t show. So much for being helpful…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he stopped altogether, constantly wondering why. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mike parked alongside the sidewalk, just after the overgrown bushes. “Hey,” He called, rolling the car window down. “Hey, Scott.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott was standing still against a tattered brick wall, staring back at the apartment building. He hated to think that day would be the last time he’d ever see the vine-covered walls, the red carpeted stairs, and the door with the hinges that were never quite attached correctly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just another place he could never step foot in again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Scott!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Startled, he sharply turned around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get in. There’s an extra uniform in the back,” Mike said harshly with just a hint of concern. “Before you change, though, there you can use those napkins in the cup holder to get that blood off of your face. What happened to you? Why were you late in the first place?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh- well, I was here to visit...a friend. The scratch was just from my cat…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really? Because I’m pretty sure you’re the only person that cat even likes. You can tell me what’s going on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I- well…” Scott sighed, pressing the napkins to his cheek. “It’s not important. Don’t worry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, then I trust you. We’ve got two parties to choose from. I’m assuming you want party room one,” Mike muttered as Scott pulled the grey polo shirt over his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that would be nice, thanks,” Scott sighed. He usually asked for the first party room because it was farthest away from the show stage and it had the best ventilation. It also happened to host the parties with the fewest kids.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When we get there, boss wants to talk to you about scheduling and such. We can stop by the first aid kit on the way to cover up that scratch.” Mike glanced at Scott through the rear view mirror. “Thank god, it doesn’t look that bad now that it’s stopped bleeding.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s good,” Scott sighed, clasping the belt before laying across the back seats. “Thanks for this. You really didn’t have to drive me across town, you know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I kinda did. If I wasn’t driving you to work, you would have been an extra hour late at least. I’m doing both of us a favor.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guess…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rest of the ride to the pizzeria was silent with the exception of one last, hushed, “Thank you” from Scott, who stared at the roof of the car the whole time, listening to the soft breeze and the bustling city surrounding him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott was single; he never knew if he was going to be in a relationship ever again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he was okay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And- at that moment- that was all that mattered.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. adronitis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>EDIT: wow it’s now been beta read and revised! </p><p>as always, thank u for reading and i hope u enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Scott, you know I’ve asked you to take on a management position before. While you’re definitely not ready to start </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>, there are some things you could do for me in order to be eligible for the role-” William continued to explain while Scott stared at him blankly, occasionally nodding. He had heard it all before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Afton-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ve known each other for years, Scott. Call me William.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I- well- you know I can’t take more hours. I’m sorry-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re one hour short- on average- of your minimum hours to switch to a salary. I just think you should get what you deserve for how long you’ve worked here. Just one more hour, say, tonight?” William proposed, his fingers impatiently tapping against the desk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was the second day in a row that William had asked Scott to take up more hours at work, but this time, it was reasonable. It was beginning to seem as if Scott had no choice in the matter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guess I could do that,” Scott sighed. “Tomorrow, though. I- I have plans tonight, so I-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I understand. So it’s settled, then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhh-” Scott stammered, wringing his hands. “Thank you…” He was unsure, but also needed the money. After all, getting paid days off would be nice, and he wouldn’t have to take time away from his job at the library. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was only one conflict: the podcast.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe this could finally be his excuse to quit, but a poor excuse it was. One extra hour at work every week is no reason to quit an entire hobby- now, a career.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Run along now, Michael will tell you what you have to do,” William had turned back toward his computer, typing away at a spreadsheet. Not wanting to disturb him any further, Scott silently stood up and left without another word.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where had his internal monologue left off? Excuse- hobby- career- podcast… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then there was Vincent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*****************</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vincent was bored out of his mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The earliest you can leave is midnight,” His boss repeated, carelessly throwing the door open before stepping outside with one last remark. “Not a second earlier!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yet he still found the bar empty when there was only an hour left until Scott was supposed to arrive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even worse, his feelings for Scott hadn’t faded. If he didn’t feel the same way, who knows what would go down? They had only known each other formally for about a day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the other hand, the fact that Scott would even </span>
  <em>
    <span>consider </span>
  </em>
  <span>joining Vincent at a bar could be a good sign; a sign of trust, if it wasn’t just for show.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the minutes ticked by, Vincent realized it might have only been for show. It was nearly half an hour after the time at which Scott had agreed to be there, but he was absent. When Vincent called, he was quickly declined, the beeping of his phone echoing through the empty room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was already nine o’clock. He might as well have locked up and left then and there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t get your hopes up, Vince,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>his boss had said to him before leaving him with the bar for the night. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ve invited plenty of guys here and they’ve all stood me up. Every single one of them. </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Especially</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> influencers. If they’ve got any status, they’re certain to kick you to the curb.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you did, Scott,” Vincent mumbled to the empty barstools, scrubbing at a circular stain on the bar. “So you did.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did what?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vincent stopped dead in his tracks, continuing to stare at his still hand against the table as the front door creaked to a close. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t see who walked through the door, but he knew.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could tell by no more than the sound of Scott’s voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vincent cleared his throat. “I thought you stood me up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry. I had to get a ride over here since my car-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine. Sit down, you’re here now and that’s what matters.” Vincent tossed the rag he was using on the bar into a bucket, pulling two glasses down from the shelves. “Can I get you anything to drink?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh- uhh- sure! Do you have…” Scott leaned against the counter, scanning the bottle-lined shelves. “...tequila?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure do,” Vincent replied with a smirk, pouring two shots within a few seconds before placing them on the bar. “I’ll cover it, don’t worry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Scott sighed, climbing onto a barstool and reaching for one of the shot glasses, only to be stopped when Vincent gently grabbed his wrist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not yet; not until you show me some identification, lovely. You don’t look a day over nineteen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Seriously?” Scott muttered, slightly smiling to himself at Vincent’s obvious flirting. “Alright, here.” He pulled out his driver’s license and slid it across the table to Vincent, who really made a show of checking that it was real. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alrighty, then,” Vincent replied, handing the license back to Scott with a smirk still on his lips. “Drink all you want. We rarely get any customers around here, anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I thought I got here too late when I saw all the seats empty. I’ll recommend this place to some friends if you’d like.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That would be nice. Thanks.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh- it’s not a problem- you’re welcome,” Scott said, sighing and picking up the full shot glass and immediately downing the whole thing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re trying to forget something, aren’t you?” Vincent’s smile slightly dropped as he laid his arms on the bar right across from Scott. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is it </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>obvious?” Scott covered the bandage that was still on his cheek with one hand while Vincent took the other hand and gently held it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can tell me, Scott. Whatever’s going on, I won’t judge you for it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This whole week’s been a fucking mess...all of it. You probably don’t want to hear about it.” Scott traced his finger around the rim of the glass before Vincent took it out from under his hand, refilling it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do want to hear about it, though. You really look like you need to talk to someone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was true; everything that happened that week- from meeting Vincent in the library to being broken up with and arriving late to work- seemed less like a blurred dream and more like a vivid nightmare. He really did need to talk about it, and Vincent didn’t seem like the type who would be quick to judge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well...my ex broke up with me.” Scott shrugged nonchalantly, taking the full shot glass back into his hand and turning it around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Looks like your ex did more than break up with you, lovely. What happened- if you don’t mind me asking.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I- well-” Scott paused, glancing at Vincent before averting his gaze. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>just meet earlier this week and it probably wouldn’t have been a good idea to spill everything at once. Who knows how Vincent would react? “Maybe later, if that’s okay. Still kind of a touchy subject, sorry…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s alright. We’ve got time. I guess it would have been easier to take you out somewhere else, though, to help you find inspiration. I get that it’s not easy. Just the fact that you’ve stuck with the podcast for so long is amazing.” Vincent glanced up and down the nearly empty bar, noticing that both his and Scott’s glasses were empty and filling them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure about that…” Scott smiled, turning around for a few seconds to examine the rest of the room. “This old building is inspiring. There’s a lot to work with here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure that’s what the contractor said, too, when he sold this place. It’s kind of a dump. I guess if you can find something beautiful about it, though…” Vincent watched Scott’s eyes sparkle underneath the dim lighting before slightly closing to take another shot. Scott blinked a few times before setting the glass down, his eyes bleary. “Want me to pour you another one? Most people start getting really drunk after the fourth, so I’m not sure if you’d want to-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Actually, that’d be great. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” Scott smiled at Vincent, relaxed for what seemed to be the first time that night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vincent </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>a bit concerned, but decided to trust Scott. After all, he wanted Scott to trust him in return. Taking the glass from the table, he poured another shot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This instance was a side of Scott that Vincent didn’t often see. He was calm- inspirited, even- instead of constantly being on guard for reasons which Vincent could figure out pretty easily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One thing was for sure; he wasn’t going to let Scott walk home alone that night. Whether it was because of the various wounds he saw scattered across Scott’s neck and shoulders or the fact that he was utterly </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasted</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Vincent didn’t feel right leaving Scott unsupervised until he was sober.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had finished six shots, and Vincent refused to pour a seventh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t we just talk for a while?” Vincent asked. “We have all the time in the world.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh… Well, that’s fine. Y’know, I don’t even remember why I was drinking in the first place. It’s crazy, right?” Scott’s cheeks were a rosy shade of pink as he rambled on about not being able to remember the past couple days of his life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At that moment, all Vincent wanted was to kiss Scott. Whether they kissed from across the bar, sprawled across the seats, or outside in the cool autumn air, it wouldn’t matter as long as Vincent took a single chance to look into Scott’s deep brown eyes, run his hands along his waist, and make him shut the hell up about the weather.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Scott.” Vincent interrupted, resting his forearms on the bar so that he was only a foot away from Scott. “What are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was the romantic moment they had been waiting their whole lives for.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhh…” Scott trailed off, slightly furrowing his brows as he tried to recall the conversation that had just ended. “‘m not sure…” He chuckled, his cheeks and nose darkening to a fuschia color. “What d’ya wanna talk about?” Scott stared into Vincent’s eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott’s eyes were hazy as he blinked at Vincent, the smile slowly slipping off of his face when Vincent wasn’t responding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>want to talk about?” Vincent raised his eyebrows, choosing his next words cautiously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to talk about their love lives. He wanted to lean in further until their lips were millimetres away and take what they both knew they wanted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wouldn’t be right, though. In this state, it would never be right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vincent rarely refrained from a situation like this, but with Scott...it was almost as if he was being tested. He had to get to know Scott as a person first, which was oh-so-frustrating when he was always either diffident or rambling about random shit simply to fill silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So, Vincent chose his next words safely. “How was work today?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Today?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, today. Did you work at the pizzeria today?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I did. It sucked ass...always does… It’s so tiring. Boss keeps telling me to take more hours so I can be a manager, but then I’d have to quit the stupid podcast and there’s some kid I met who wants me to continue it but I don’t really want to so maybe…” Just like that, he was rambling again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vincent sighed, nodding every once in a while. He still loved to hear Scott’s voice, but this was a bit excessive. That was, until Scott paused to take a long breath before continuing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know…” He slid one of his hands onto Vincent’s arm, lightly squeezing it. “I think you’re really cool...and attractive...do you like me, too?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I…” Now Vincent’s cheeks, too, were dusted with a soft pink. Scott wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning, would he? So there would be no harm in telling the truth. After all, Scott </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>just admit that he was attracted to Vincent. “I think you’re beautiful, love.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aww, that’s sweet…” Scott examined Vincent’s face. “Are we supposed to, like, kiss now or something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vincent was caught off guard, but only slightly. After all, he’d been feeling the same romantic tension Scott was talking about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean…” Vincent started with a smirk before the corners of his mouth fell into a concerned smile. Scott stared up at him like a lost puppy, hopeful that Vincent would finally be the one to bring him home. Vincent wouldn’t want to take advantage of him. Not yet; not like this. “Not right now, Scott. You’re really drunk. You’ll regret it in the morning.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh...alright...but what if I don’t? What if I still want to kiss you tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just say the word, lovely, and I’ll do it.” Vincent turned his arms around on the table so Scott’s hands could fall into his.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, I will… What word should I say?” Scott asked in as much seriousness as he could in that moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What...what word,” Vincent stopped, confused, before realizing. “Lovely, it’s a figure of speech-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I’ll say. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lovely</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Then, will you kiss me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vincent glanced at Scott’s lips, a dreamy sigh escaping his throat as Scott gently squeezed his hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you wake up tomorrow and say it, I’ll kiss you as much as you’d like.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So you really are a romantic</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Vincent thought to himself, hoping that it was true. Some people show their true selves with a little alcohol while others, well… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vincent wanted to believe that Scott really did love him, even if he had only confessed while drunk. At least they had gotten through their conversation without promising anything they couldn’t escape later on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vincent was tipsy, sure, but Scott was nearly falling asleep at the bar, still holding Vincent’s hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on, let’s go home. I’ll drive.” Vincent had walked around to the other side of the wooden bar. “Can you walk?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I can- I can walk.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, Scott wasn’t lying. He could stumble across the floor just fine, eventually opting to lean against some shelves while Vincent was locking the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is it okay if I carry you?” Vincent asked before stepping away from the locked front door of the building.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then there was the question of taking Scott to his own home or to Vincent’s place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Peering at the bandage over Scott’s cheek one more time before setting his feet on the ground, Vincent knew his answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah...a motorcycle...you can drive?” Scott asked, all of the sentences he mumbled after that in similar out-of-order fragments.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I started riding when I was fourteen.” Vincent managed to get both himself and Scott onto the seat, wrapping Scott’s arms around his waist. “Can you hold onto me or do I need to go home and borrow my cousin’s car?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll hold onto you…” As Scott rested his head on Vincent’s back, Vincent could have sworn he heard a soft “You smell nice…” from behind him, but shrugged it off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, let’s go home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rest of the night was a blur of neon city lights, the grumbling of car engines, and a silent, pitch-black apartment where Vincent laid Scott down on the bed, threw the blankets over him, and left the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The light from the television cut through the darkness, Vincent watching intently. He didn’t care what was on, he just couldn’t sleep while constantly thinking about Scott in the other room, sleeping in Vincent’s bed while Vincent was stuck on the couch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knew Scott would freak out when he woke up, but it would only be worse if Vincent was in bed with him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For now, all he could do was stare at the screen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The couples in movies always get to know one another so easily, but Vincent barely knew any more about Scott than the rest of the people who listened to his podcast. He felt at a loss, having tried everything he could think of and still getting nothing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tuned his senses back to the movie that he happened to find while flipping through TV stations.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You remember that night and the vow that we made…” The couple joined hands, longingly gazing into each other’s eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been waiting for you,” the other replied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vincent and Scott had made their vows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For now, it was only a matter of waiting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>****************</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No… No! Fuck-” Some shuffling from the bedroom, then one last, “No!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vincent opened his eyes only to find the sun beaming straight into them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And, as always,” a man on the TV said confidently. “Good morning, Utah!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vincent groaned at the sunlight, rolling over on the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>
    <span>Good morning, Scott…</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ok imma go to sleep now goodnight :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. redamancy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>new chapter yay!<br/>this is another one i may revise and repost later but the fundamental plot points won’t change.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Ugh...goddamnit,” Scott leaned his back against the headboard of the bed, his head aching from an unexpected hangover and his hands in his hair. He glanced at the alarm clock beside the bed that definitely was not his.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was two hours after he was supposed to be at the pizzeria that morning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No… No, no, no…” He checked his phone, but the time on the screen read no differently than the alarm clock. On top of that, he had multiple missed calls and a voicemail from William Afton.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hesitantly, he opened the voicemail.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Scott, I just called to ask if you were doing alright since you were late to work yesterday and are also late today. I should inform you that you’re on grounds of being fired at the moment, but it’s nothing for you to be specifically concerned about, just something to keep in mind. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to deny you a management position since you haven’t taken enough hours this week, but I hope we can learn from this experience and do better in a few months, alright? There’s always next time. Anyway, I’ll see you at some point today. Call Michael if you have any questions about schedules or anything, alright? Okay, bye-” William’s voice was cut off by a short beep while Scott nearly dropped his phone, the warmth draining from his- already pale- face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One thing was certain: today would be a hell of a day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>************</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After hearing all the panicked yelling coming from the bedroom, Vincent decided to investigate. Knowing Scott, he would have a lot of explaining to do regarding why they both woke up in Vincent’s apartment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He probably doesn’t remember anything…</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It really was a shame. Vincent wanted that kiss, but he said he would wait for Scott’s permission, so he did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” Vincent gently knocked on the bedroom door. “Is everything alright? Can I come in?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. Leave me alone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> room. At least tell me why you woke me up with your screaming this morning.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A minute of silence, and Scott finally replied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, come in.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Vincent finally opened the door and walked inside, he stood at the foot of the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Vincent? How- What are you doing here? What am I doing here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, this is my apartment. As for you, do you remember when I invited you to the bar last night?” Vincent asked, watching Scott’s grip on the blankets gradually loosen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Vaguely…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well-” Vincent stopped himself before explaining any more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could have talked about the romantic tension. He could have talked about the confession. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He could have mentioned the promised kiss</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t say any of it, though, hoping that Scott had forgotten entirely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You kept saying that you were fine, so I let you get drunk. I know I shouldn’t have, but I didn’t want to-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Scott replied, indifferent to what Vincent had said. “But why am I </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“After I carried you out,” Vincent said, watching his own fingers trace the pattern on the top blanket. “I couldn’t let you go out by yourself like that. I was afraid you’d do something irresponsible; I was afraid for the both of us, so I brought you back here. I slept on the couch all night. We never did anything. I was hoping you wouldn’t freak out…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott was silent, staring at the alarm clock beside the bed. He was even later to work than before, but did it matter? It was no more than a way to get a pay raise and get out of the podcast at first, but now it was only a side hustle. It was an odd job with an unpredictable schedule and some early mornings that were not friendly to hangovers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Vincent, I’m not scared by you. I guess I just didn’t realize that this was your place at first, but I’m sorry about this morning. It’s just that I was supposed to get promoted today, and now I won’t get the job because I’m late to work and I have to continue the damn-” Scott paused, mindlessly picking at the edge of the blankets. “I have no excuse to quit the podcast.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you don’t. These things do happen for a reason, though. Someone’s trying to tell you that this podcast is worth it,” Vincent said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Someone? Yeah, I’m pretty sure you’re the only person who cares if I quit or not. I probably could have moved out of my apartment with that management job at the pizzeria…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hate to tell you this- it’s not always true- but you can make more money being an influencer than the pizzeria could ever give you. You’ve really got something special here, and I’d be happy to help you. This is an opportunity.” Vincent made eye contact with Scott, his hand gently resting on Scott’s knee. “Give it a chance; give </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>a chance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott continued to look into Vincent’s eyes, wondering where to go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Accepting Vincent’s help was appealing; really, it was. As much as Scott didn’t want to suffer through countless seasons of his own podcast, he could never seem to shake the fact that Vincent really was wonderful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life with Vincent; in fact, he would really, really-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, thanks. I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Vincent replied. “At least let me take you out one more time. Just to make it up to you for...all of this…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>One more time</span>
  </em>
  <span>, then never again, okay? I’m free on Tuesday night.” Scott hopped off of the bed, heading toward the front door. “Just call me if we need to reschedule.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tuesday night should be fine with me. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine.” Scott sighed. “I just need to get home so I can at least get a few hours at work today.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“May I drive you home? It’s the least I can do after everything that’s happened.” Vincent followed Scott to the front door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott stopped, turning around to face Vincent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, but- again- just this once. I can’t do this anymore. We’re probably both better off staying apart.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And they would be better off apart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What Vincent didn’t understand- what Scott had yet to tell him- was why. Sure, Scott had been unfaithful to many partners before, but word never got around. He lied about it many times on the podcast and now couldn’t escape the cycle simply because he couldn’t bring himself to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry, Vincent…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Really, Vincent was the only person Scott was brave enough to deny.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t believe that, Scott. We </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>brought together for a reason, and I like to think that I’m fated to save your podcast, possibly even your life…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott followed Vincent down the stairs and into the parking lot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Saving the podcast, no way. Saving my life, we’ll see what happens. Never know when we could cross paths.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You never know when the person you least expect could turn your life around,” Vincent said before tossing a shiny, black helmet into Scott’s arms. “All I can say is that I hope that person is me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Secretly, Scott also hoped Vincent would be the one to change his life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the motorcycle revved to life, Scott hesitantly held onto Vincent’s shoulders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, lovely, where do you live?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where- What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If I’m taking you home, I should probably know where to go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh- Sorry, I’ll give you directions.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No need to be sorry about that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott sighed as they turned out of the parking space, heading down the street soon after. At the corner, they stopped at a sign. Vincent glanced back at Scott as if to ask which way he should turn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just go downtown. I’ll tell you where to go from there,” Scott said tonelessly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright. Do you live in one of the lofts or…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I moved there when I started the podcast. The walls are a lot thicker so I don’t get a bunch of background noise while I’m recording.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s really smart, actually.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott could feel his face warm up underneath the helmet. He normally would have hidden his blush, but the roads were nearly empty and Vincent was paying attention to the road.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Vince,” he mumbled, slightly tightening his grip on Vincent’s shoulders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rest of the ride was easygoing; it was more calm than either of them thought it would be. The subtle breeze was so inviting, they could drive around like this forever if Scott didn’t have to go to work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Every once in a while, cars would pass by with a soft rumble, only adding to the familiarity. Other than the fact that they were sober, that morning was no different from the night prior.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Feeling a bit unstable holding onto Vincent’s shoulders, Scott waited until they slowed in front of a traffic light to gently wrap his arms around Vincent’s waist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is this okay? Just- Trying not to fall off- but if you’re uncomfortable-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s fine by me. Wouldn’t want you falling off, now would we, lovely?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott laughed softly, looking up at the sky. It was a clear blue, the result of the storm that had rolled in the night before. He saw no stars as he stepped up to the bar, the trees trembling from what was to come. He could remember how the humid air felt when he left the bar with Vincent at the end of the night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott could remember everything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Most of all, he remembered the promise Vincent had made to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even worse, he actually wanted to go through with it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, lovely, what street should I turn on? I think I have some idea where the lofts are…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The next one. The one with the bridal store.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, lovely.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There it was again. It was almost as if Vincent was taunting him. Hanging right in front of Scott was the word that would finally change his life for the better. It was the word that would free him from his own web of lies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was the word that would make his dreams a reality.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All he had to do was say it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s the building. You can stop anywhere.” Scott pointed past Vincent’s shoulder toward a brick building that was no different from the rest of the street. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay. I assume you’d rather not have me walk you inside.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well-” While it would be nice, they couldn’t spend an eternity making out. That is, if Vincent even remembered his promise to begin with. “Maybe just to the stairs?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think that can be arranged,” Vincent replied, hopping off of the motorcycle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both stepped into the alley, a shadow hiding them from the beautiful weather.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I guess this is it…” Scott handed the helmet to Vincent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guess it is. See you on Tuesday, love.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“See you then…” Scott’s heart was pounding as he looked up at Vincent, knowing what he wanted to say next but seriously doubting his choice. Clearing his throat- recalling every second that had led up to that moment- he spoke softly. “...lovely…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then there was silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a silence that deafened them. It communicated everything they had been trying to say for the entirety of three days.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You…” Vincent was taken aback, but still obviously in love. Still wary, he awaited another sign from Scott before making a move. “You remembered…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course I did,” Scott whispered, gently taking Vincent’s hand. “How could I forget a promise like that? What I said last night was the truth; I really do like you and...you feel the same way, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vincent blinked a few times, taking time to fully register what was going on. Looking into Scott’s eyes, he saw it. The same look he had seen the night before remained even as they were both sober.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The same love also remained.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guess I owe you a kiss, then~” Vincent smirked, stroking the side of Scott’s cheek with his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guess you do…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stepped closer together, Vincent wrapping his arms around Scott’s waist before leaning down to softly press their lips together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The kiss was tender and caring, their touches deliberately soft. It was a confession, after all, and they hadn’t yet the passion that would fill their hearts later on. For now, they only had the sweet, fluttering type of love that never failed to amaze them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry, Vince. I shouldn’t have been such a bitch… I love you. I promise, it’ll never happen again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ll be here for you no matter what. I love you, too, Scott.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though it was so rare, this type of love was the only one Scott had ever mentioned in the podcast. He rarely felt it, only liked to pretend it was permanent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With Vincent, Scott felt like he had never felt with anyone else. He realized everything all at once. They loved each other, they trusted each other, and they had an unusually strong bond for only knowing each other for a few days.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were definitely doubts; there were </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> doubts. In that moment, though, and many that followed, They were both happier than they had ever been.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The podcast </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>continue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott had finally found his inspiration.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>they kissed! yay!</p><p>as always, thank u for reading, i hope u enjoyed, and have a good night! (or good morning or whatever)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. visceral</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>u know what this isn’t beta read nor have i proof read it myself i’m just goin in and posting this so pls tell me if i ducked anything up thank u very much uwu</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Well, you’re in a good mood...again…” William watched Scott swing around the doorframe, falling into the wall where he continued to lean. “Odd, considering the fact I denied you a promotion a few days ago. What’s going on with you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh- nothing… Well, it’s just-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If it’s nothing,” William said, continuing whatever he was working on. “Then get back to work. At least you’re not always late anymore.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, then, See you later!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just like that, Scott was out of the office and down the hall. He had been like this ever since the day Vincent kissed him. It was almost like a scene straight out of a Hallmark Christmas movie, or a romance novel, or a fanfiction… The only difference was that it was real life and it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wonderful</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Although there was still one more day until they would meet in person again, they had been talking nonstop. Whether it was in short, sweet messages while they were at work or phone conversations that lasted into the late hours of the night, they were never bored with each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both felt as if they had found their soulmate, which may have been a stretch, but it was becoming more believable every day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott was so in love with Vincent, he couldn’t hide it anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he bounced through the hall, reading the latest text from Vincent, he didn’t expect to trip over something- or </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span>- in the hall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Scott, watch where you’re going. You’re seriously scaring me now.” Mike held out an arm to catch Scott before he hit the ground.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I just...feel better...a lot better. What did you want me to do today?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need you to stay backstage for maintenance. Chica’s been acting up lately. Before that, though, what happened? Why are you suddenly so…” Mike’s brows furrowed as he watched Scott, who seemed unusually relaxed with an uncharacteristically dreamy look in his eye. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Mr. Afton asked about that, too… It’s nothing big, really…” Scott wrung his hands together, his gaze shifting to the ground. Before Mike could respond, though, he continued, not able to keep it a secret any longer. “Okay, okay, it might involve something big because I met someone!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear the first half of that sentence. What’s he like?” Mike turned to continue down the hallway, Scott following beside him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, he’s really sweet, he’s tall and pretty buff, he has pale eyes and soft hair-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Mike interrupted, stopping at a table where they both sat down. “But what is he like? Like, his personality.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, when I first met him last week, he was kind of cold and harsh, but once we talked more and got to know each other better, I learned that he’s actually really sweet and caring. I met him at the library, actually. We like a lot of the same books,” Scott explained, stopping when he looked back at Mike and saw that he was still unimpressed. “Mike, he’s a good guy, really, I’m sure about this one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look, I really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to believe you, Scott, but this is exactly what you said the last time you told me about a guy you liked, and you remember what happened with him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This one’s different, I’m sure of it. He’s super forgiving and not in a creepy way. I know this guy’s the one. If you saw him, I know you’d agree with me. He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span>…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re dreaming.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Scott tensed up, looking at his phone, his hands, the clock on the wall- anything that could prove he was awake.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t mean literally asleep and dreaming, I mean you’re not seeing this new relationship for what it really is. You’re so caught up in fantasizing about him that he’s going to take advantage of you. You need to wake up,” Mike said, watching Scott’s gaze drop from his eyes to the table. “You’re finally telling me about your love life again. I couldn’t live with myself if I gave you the wrong advice and watched you get hurt again…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But, Mike…” Scott looked back into his eyes. “You’re married. How could your advice be wrong?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I met her in high school. Things worked out a lot differently than they would if I just met her last week.” Mike sighed, glanced at the floor, then looked at Scott. “All I’ll say is… Get to know him better. I know you really want a relationship, but these things take time. You aren’t going to get to him too late, trust me. I just don’t want you to fall into an abusive relationship again.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott leaned on the table, defeated. Mike was right; the relationship would never be meaningful if they both jumped in too quickly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe that could be a good topic for the podcast…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just hate to think that I’ve dated so many people and probably don’t have many chances left…” Scott sighed, blinking back a few tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Give it a month, okay? See how you feel after that and talk about it together. If you don’t want to talk to him, I’ll always be here to listen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Mike… I’m sorry I never told you anything that was going on. I really should have told you-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, I just remembered,” Mike replied. “There was this podcast about relationship advice. I listened to a few episodes of it a while back, and the dude actually gave some really good pointers.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh- Really? Well, I- uhh- don’t really listen to podcasts, so…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you ever decide you wanna listen to it, it’s pretty easy to find if you search for it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks- Thank you. I’ll go backstage now.” Scott quickly stood up, stepping toward the hallway. “I’ll see you later!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mike stood to follow him, but Scott was already around the corner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh. Alright, then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the end- even with how weird it was- it was nice to finally see Scott happy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Mike thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>the podcast wouldn’t do him much good anyway with what he’s been through… </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*****************</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Scott!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Startled, Scott turned around to see Vincent on a motorcycle spinning a shiny, black helmet on his finger. There was a helmet covering his face, but Scott could tell. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He could tell by no more than the sound of his voice</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott had just clocked out and was ready to walk home when William and Mike stopped him outside the doors. At some point, Vincent rode into the parking lot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll finish this conversation tomorrow,” William said, shooting a glare at Vincent before heading inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So that’s him, huh?” Mike glanced at Vincent. “Is he super hot under that helmet?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You could say so-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So are you coming or what?” If Vincent had a horn on the motorcycle, he would have honked it right then and there, but he opted to loudly rev the engine instead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is he…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I promise you, he’s smiling under that helmet. I should probably get going, though,” Scott replied, taking off across the parking lot to meet Vincent. “See you tomorrow, Mike!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“See you then,” Mike replied, looking back into the parking lot a few times while walking back into the pizzeria.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Surprised to see me, lovely?” Vincent raised the visor of his helmet, his cheeks slightly flushed from being under the helmet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were the best surprise of my life,” Scott replied, brushing his hand across Vincent’s cheek before they both leaned in for a short kiss. They broke apart after only a few seconds due to the helmet being awkward to work around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So,” Scott continued, “What’s up? I thought you were going to pick me up tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I got the night off. I have to close the bar at seven now since we don’t have enough money to run the lights for very long after dark. I’m looking at other job options, too, but I don’t want to make any decisions until we know for sure if we’re closing down or not.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s terrible… I could help- only if you’d like, though. I just happen to know a lot of people who have been banned from all the popular places downtown.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, then,” Vincent replied, feeling a sense of deja vu, yet knowing exactly why. Scott had probably just forgotten the first time when he offered to help Vincent simply because of how much happened that night. “Anyone you know, I’ll take them. That is, unless they’ll make a mess of the place.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That takes about half the people off my list.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, it is what it is,” Vincent said, turning back around to start the motorcycle again. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>plan something at the last minute for us to do tonight, though…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh? What is it?” Scott wrapped his arms around Vincent, leaning his head on Vincent’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m taking you somewhere you’ve never been before.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’ll be a challenge.” Scott laughed. “If you really think there’s a place in this town I’ve never been to before, take your best shot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I hope you like speeding on city streets late at night, because I’ll accept your challenge. First, the-” Vincent paused, a smirk stretching across his lips. “Actually, I won’t tell you where we’re going.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, then, let’s go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And they sped off into the darkness with nothing more than the occasional street lamp to light the way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dreamy as it was, it was a bit concerning when Vincent would weave between cars at speeds they could get arrested for. Luckily, though, they never actually got into an accident.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, the motorcycle skidded into a darkened parking lot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did I scare you?” Vincent asked after stopping in a parking space, turning his head to face Scott. “Because I can feel your heart beating pretty fast.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I promise I trust you. I guess I just wasn’t expecting you to be the type to drive recklessly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s got to be the first time I’ve heard someone say that to me. Now, come on, we’ve got quite a bit of walking for this one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vincent stood on the pavement, holding his hand out to Scott, who took it before hopping off the motorcycle and following him. When the pavement ended, they stepped onto the dewey grass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hope the sprinklers aren’t supposed to run tonight,” Vincent muttered, cautiously glancing around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were the only people in the field, continuing to walk to whatever their destination would be. Although it seemed familiar, Scott was still unsure of where they were going.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Vince?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How much longer do we have to-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There! There it is!” Vincent took off into the darkness, his hand slipping out of Scott’s. “It’s just over this hill,” he added.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Vincent!” Scott ran after him, slightly slowing when he noticed Vincent stop at the top of the hill. “Why’d you just leave me back there?” He chuckled, stopping beside Vincent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just making sure it’s still here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s still here-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This.” Vincent wrapped an arm around Scott’s shoulders, his other hand motioning toward the valley.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the flat ground sat an empty drive-in movie theater.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I always wanted to see a movie here…” Scott sighed, leaning into Vincent’s arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you haven’t been here before.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’ve been here, just once after it closed down… Why did we walk all that way, though?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When I was dating my first girlfriend,” Vincent replied, “I could borrow my cousin’s truck to see movies here, but I got caught sneaking in without a ticket too many times, so we would sit up here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That sounds amazing,” Scott whispered, leaning his head against Vincent’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was…” Vincent’s voice faded into the chilled air, a moment of silence taking its place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was almost as if they were back in high school again. Although they didn’t even go to the same school, they likely would have already been lovers if they did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though, if they had hooked up in high school, there’s no way it could have lasted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go on to the next place, huh? I swear I can find somewhere you’ve never been.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, whatever you say,” Scott said, leaning up to peck Vincent’s lips, missing his target and getting Vincent’s chin instead. “You’re too tall…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here.” Vincent let go of Scott’s shoulders, leaning down. “Better?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Much better.” Scott’s cheeks faded to a pale pink as he wrapped his arms around Vincent’s neck and placed a sweet kiss on his lips. “Okay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> we can go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They raced back to the parking lot, hopping on the motorcycle before taking off into the city.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They went to the opera house, which had been closed for renovations. Scott had been there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vincent weaved through alleys to find the one with all the stone statues. Scott knew it well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They made their way to the indoor garden and the outdoor art gallery. They drove across town and back to visit the corn maze. Vincent drove to the top of the tallest parking garage in the city, where a small garden resided.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>everywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have one more place. Trust me on this one, alright?” Vincent was slowly rolling across the parking lot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, where is it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right across the street. You can see it from here. That building with the big windows.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Vince, I’ve been to the library…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The motorcycle revved once again and they were speeding down the ramps to the ground floor of the parking garage. Once at the bottom, Vincent abruptly stopped in a spot closest to the exit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Still scared of my driving, are you?” Vincent asked. Scott rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, when you drive that fast down a ramp-” Scott paused as they were ascending the steps of the building. “Are you sure this place is still open? Usually, when I work here, I close the place at midnight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I've found that your coworkers like to lock up at two in the morning, after all the students leave. With how little you know about this place, I wouldn’t be surprised if you haven’t seen the room I’m taking you to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What, the broom closet? There’s nothing besides rows of books and old computers here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vincent pushed the golden doors open, stepping inside before pointing at a shelf on the back wall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Scott, go move that shelf.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? No way. I’m not on the clock. I could get fired-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trust me. Please, trust me. Everything will be alright.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott took a moment to breathe, glancing around before pacing toward the bookshelf. The library was empty, yet the doors were unlocked, all the lights were on, and a faint classical tune played through the speakers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he finally approached the shelf- Vincent a few feet behind- he traced the ornate carvings in the wood. The shelf definitely stood out amongst the other plain pieces of oak that sat in rows across the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ornate shelf was filled with ancient encyclopedias and other texts that weren’t available to be checked out or photocopied. Besides the occasional passerby, who only wanted to casually read a nearly unreadable book, no one had even caught a glimpse of what was behind the shelf.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, no one except Vincent, apparently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott hesitantly pulled a worn book from the shelf, peering into the empty space behind it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s-” Scott blinked a few times, squinting as his eyes adjusted to how dark the room was. “There’s a room back there…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Always has been.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can we go inside?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely. I’ve been in there before. It’s only closed off because a bunch of people died in there once.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How’d they die?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I dunno- They...They bopped too hard...to...Mozart or someone like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wow…” Scott put the book back on the shelf stepping back. “I hope there aren’t ghosts in there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, there are plenty of ghosts in there,” Vincent replied, sliding the bookshelf away from the opening in the wall. “They’re not angry, though, so there’s nothing to be afraid of.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait-” Scott suddenly stopped when Vincent flipped the light switch, filling the ballroom with a golden glow. There were a few speakers in the corners, too, which caused the soft music to echo across the stone walls and linoleum tile. On the ceiling was an array of wooden beams, many of them painted gold. Above the beams was a faded mural that was meant to represent knowledge and integrity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t it a beauty?” Vincent stood in the middle of the ballroom, slowly turning around to take in the entire space. When he was facing Scott again, he held out a hand. “Well? We are in a ballroom, after all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh- Oh, uhh,” Scott nervously wrung his hands together, taking a few steps toward Vincent. “I can’t dance, really…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s no one else here, and the ghosts won’t mind. You’ll never get better unless you try, lovely, and that’s a promise.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So...you won’t hate me if I suck at dancing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t hate you no matter what you sucked. I won’t force you, though. I’m always down for laying on the floor and trying to make out what the paintings on the ceiling were supposed to be.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott sighed, a small smile on his lips as he accepted Vincent’s hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry in advance if I step on your toes,” Scott apologized.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, I forgive you in advance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both softly laughed, wrapping their arms around each other in a gentle hug. Eventually, they began to sway to the music.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Vincent, more than I can say. You’ve done so much for me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you too… I can’t believe we’re already back here again, where we met for the first time. I never thought I’d hear your voice saying that you loved me,” Vincent replied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Same here. When I first met you, I never thought we’d end up back here like this… Do we </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to actually dance? I’m kinda tired.” Scott leaned into Vincent’s chest, his eyelids falling closed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, love, when I asked you to dance, I didn’t mean we were going to tango or anything. This was what I meant, what we’re doing right now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do we have anything planned for tomorrow?” Scott mumbled, opening his eyes to look up at Vincent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re going out for drinks tomorrow- I’ve already reserved a couple spots for us- but we can come back here once it gets late.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d like that… Thanks, Vince…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Any time, lovely.” Vincent planted a kiss on Scott’s hairline. “Any time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And so they continued to follow the soft rhythm of the music, growing increasingly tired as the minutes went by until- finally- it was time to go their separate ways to return home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was certainly an unforgettable night, possibly the best one of their lives. With all the adventure, romance, and subtle mystery they’ve experienced throughout the short time they’ve been together, though…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where were they to go from here?</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hey! thanks for reading! if u liked this, you’ll probably also like Sonething That Isn’t There, a fanfic that i finished a little while ago here on ao3! if u wanna keep up with updates, see deleted or discontinued contest from my fics, or just read my random ass tweets, here are my socials!</p>
<p>twitter: ToastyBagel_</p>
<p>tumblr: toastybagel</p></blockquote></div></div>
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